Thursday, February 12, 2009

I wandered over to my apartment this afternoon where I just knew that I would find Brett Michaels (My "houseboy" for lack of a better word) sitting in his underwear in the middle of the day playing guitar hero. As I was making my way up the stairs, Brett suddenly opened the door and looked like that crack head we have all seen before, you know that one that lives in a apartment and opens his door every five minutes to look around because he thought he "heard" something.

The entire scene caught me off guard so I immediately asked him what was wrong. He replied with "I think Jersee left". WHAT? You think my 20lb pug opened the front door and walked out for what... a smoke break? What the french do you mean "She left"... As all of this was running through my head I managed to come up with a much simpler response... "What?"

He again tried, rather horribly, to explain to me that he thought Jersee left. He went on to say that he could not find her in the house and that she might have gone out the front door. Again.... what is running through my head is his use of the word MIGHT and you cant FIND her? How the french did you loose her? Did guitar hero keep you so busy that you didn't notice my little a$$ dog walk over to the front door, open it, and let herself out? Instead I believe my response was "SHIT!"

I immediately jumped into mommy action and ran frantically around the apartment searching for her. Of course she was no where to be found. I leaped past douchebag on my way out the front door and told him I was going to look for her. I began searching building by building all the while thinking that if something has happened to my dog how this man was surely going to loose a testicle.

Luckily I found her only minutes later at least 500 yards away from my front door. She had no idea what in the heck my problem was or why I was huffing my way over to her. She looked like she was in the middle of a Downy commercial frolicking in a meadow on a hot summer day with the wind blowing ever so gently in the breeze. She was on her own little puggy adventure and not at all impressed that her mother was screaming her name and running towards her like she had just stolen something.

Brett caught up to us just as I grabbed her. We all started to make our way back to the apartment. He apologized, not profusely enough for my needs at the moment, but he at least acknowledged that perhaps he did not have a good enough eye on her.

In the end I was just glad that she was okay.....but.... really? You think Jersee "left"? That moment will surely stick with me for a while.